Like A Wildfire in Your Veins
by KATRPYLR
Summary: Gamzee Makara is a 23 year old heroin addict who's managed to throw almost his entire life away. He's also managed to keep his terrifying secret from his only friend, Karkat Vantas. The pain of having to keep the secret from his only friend is just about too much for him to handle. Will he crack and tell Karkat about his addiction, or will he continue to bear the pain?
1. Secrets

_"His name is Gamzee Makara. He is 23 years old and living in a run down apartment building in inner city Seattle. He works as a piercer in that shitty tattoo parlor across the street. You could say he has a bit of a problem, but he's my best friend…" _

"Mid afternoon on a summer day and he's already blazed out of his mind," Karkat mumbled as he opened the door to Gamzee's marijuana smoke filled apartment. His unkempt head was bent back over the couch; a blunt pinned between his fingers. He looked up with a grin on his face, "Oh hey, motherfucker," he paused to take another long hit. "How's you?" he says, his voice strained by the need to keep the toxins in his lungs.

"I'm just fucking fantastic now that I've walked into your hellhole of an apartment." The smaller twenty year old rolled his eyes and plopped down onto the couch next to his lanky friend. Next thing he knows, Gamzee and his stupid high clown face is staring at him. The face smirks, "At least it ain't no opium den, my brother." Ever since Gamzee had gotten into his juggalo cult or whatever it is, Karkat's been the only one to keep him line. Karkat's always been the one to keep him in line. Gamzee took another long drag from the rolled marijuana and offered it to Karkat. In return, Karkat smacked it out of his hand.

"Don't offer me that bullshit!"

"Whoa man, jus' offering you to chill the fuck out a bit." Along with the juggalo thing, Karkat has to monitor the amount and what kind of drugs Gamzee tries. He's been high on almost everything you can think of. Acid, Ecstasy, Cocaine, he's even done a few milligrams of heroin. You name it, he's probably done it. One of the most intense experiences for Karkat was the one Acid Trip considering he just couldn't get Gamzee to calm down until he passed out. As far as Karkat knows, Gamzee has never managed to get addicted to anything, and that was a motherfucking miracle.

And so the faithful best friend glanced over at the skinny stoner-juggalo next to him. The idle look on his face was terrifying. One day, all of this was going to catch up to him and that day was something Karkat absolutely dreaded. He sighed and changed his position on the couch so his hands were between his knees. The tang of Mary Jane in the air was so strong that he could scarcely breathe. "Gamzee, man, can we at least open a window or something?" he coughed. When he finally realized he was being talked to, Gamzee stopped playing with his so called "snakebite" piercings on either side of his mouth and turned his head to a very pissed off Karkat.

"God dammit, Gamzee! I can't even have a coherent conversation with you anymore! You're always either stoned off your ass or out co-!" A long bony finger stopped him mid-sentence, "Bro, you've really got to loosen up. You're too motherfuckin' worked up all the time. Just chill." Gamzee's toothy grin managed to make Karkat even angrier on the inside, but calmed him on the outside.

One of the many reasons these two polar opposites were the best of friends since the 7th grade was because the both have this ability to calm the other down or cheer the other up. It was a quality in them both that each of them needed someone to have. Karkat leaned back on the tattered sofa and sighed grumpily. Gamzee chuckled and stood up, "Don't deny it, 'cause y'know it's true!" he said while stretching his long body. Karkat sat silent and turned on the TV to some show on the History Channel about the Industrial Revolution. Meanwhile, abiding to his friend's earlier request, Gamzee opened a window and sat down on the windowsill. Karkat remained quiet until most of the fumes had filed out the window and away from his nose, "Why don't you ever fucking clean this shithole, Gamzee?" Leaning on the windowsill, Gamzee stood still with his arms crossed. He played quietly with the snakebites again. That was a habit he'd picked up after that damned Acid Trip. He says when he does that it "keeps him glued to reality" which could have some philosophical meaning if it wasn't coming from Gamzee.

"Gamzee! Clean your damn apartment for God's sake!"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sure, motherfucker," Gamzee said incoherently and with a soft laugh as he jolted out of his trance as though he'd just woken up from a nap. He dragged himself over to the coffee table and gathered the collection of bongs, pipes and other various paraphernalia all in his arms. He then walked over to the hall closet and shoved it all in. Karkat took the liberty of placing the bridge of his nose between his fingers and mumbling to himself about how stupid Gamzee really is. Of course, something fell and shattered when the door was shut, but neither of them said or did anything about it.

Suddenly, Gamzee disappeared into his bedroom as if he had just remembered something too important to pass up. Karkat leaned over to get a better look, but could only catch a glimpse of his friends hunched over back. Eventually, Gamzee came rushing out looking a little frantic. Gamzee never looked frantic, especially when high. "Oh my God, man. I don't know if I'm going to have enough money this week," he said in a panicked tone, "Holy shit, this ain't fucking good, brother." Karkat sighed and just decided to go with it, it's not like weed was a big deal or anything so what did it matter?

"Doesn't your job shoving dirty needles through people's faces pay pretty well?"

"Yeah, but I don't get paid until the end of next week!" In all the years the two had known each other, Karkat had never seen Gamzee get this frantic about anything. Karkat stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to Gamzee; placing an arm on his shoulder, "Dude, really. You need to calm down. It's just weed. You can get some next week," he said in a calming tone. Gamzee's eyes mellowed out in some sort of odd realization, but the panic was still set behind them. He nodded quickly and in an act of pure desperation; picked up the half smoked joint on the carpeted floor and lit up.

Karkat shook his head, "God, you're treating something as simple as a bag of weed like it's crack or something." Gamzee's lips twitched into the small, sad-looking smile. "I'm not that crazy, man," he exhaled the smoke, "I'm crazy, but not that crazy," he laughed. Even Karkat managed to let a small laugh out of his tight sealed lips before waving to his old friend and leaving the dirty apartment. With that small, eerie smile still pasted to his face, Gamzee took a hit and nodded his head to the tune of a commercial on the TV. He dragged himself over to the sofa and sat down, stretched his long arms along the length of it, tilted his head back and let the smoke pour out of his mouth like poison.


	2. Need

Gamzee's sleeping body jolted awake like a child waking from a nightmare. He'd managed to sleep through the entire afternoon after Karkat left. He let out a raspy groan and sat up from his uncomfortable position leaning on the couch. The only light in the room was coming from light pollution from the window and an iridescent clock radio that changed colors every so often. On the clock radio the time read 9:03 PM. Gamzee blinked at it and grinned.

"Already an hour late for the motherfuckin' night shift, man. What the fuck are you doing?" He said to himself as he stood up on skinny legs and sauntered into the bathroom. For a moment, he stood in silence, leaning against the skin for a bit of support. Then, he reached over and flicked on the fluorescent light. A soft chuckle escaped half-painted lips when he saw the sight in the mirror. Make-up askew and eyes still bloodshot from earlier, he shook his head over the basin of the sink. The water was cold and hit him like a slap to the face. He lifted his head and proceeded to wipe off the rest of the clown makeup with a towel. Wearing that ridiculous make-up was the only thing his boss really didn't like him doing too much. Everything else; in moderation.

With that, he flipped the switch down and shuffled his way back through the filth covering his apartment floor. When his hand landed on the doorknob, the thought occurred to him that the landlord was supposed to come by that afternoon. Of course, he blew the thought off almost instantly simply because he really didn't care.

The walk to the parlor was short and sweet. Gamzee ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. The smell of rain and smog was thick in the air. Normally, the smell would bother someone, but it was the same as fresh air for him. Cars sped along the street and paid no attention to the slouching man at the cross walk. To them he is invisible. To the world, he is invisible. Soon enough, he could hear the buzzing of pink and orange fluorescent sign that read, "**Devil's Playground: Tattoo and Piercing.**" As of now, Gamzee was really the only piercer that actually worked. Occasionally he'd have to work more shifts just to meet the quota. But, this place was too shitty to even really meet a quota at all. The only customers were drunken college students that would regret whatever they did in the morning, hardcore rocker/druggies, and hookers.

He stepped into the front door and shot a quick smile at the new girl as he did everyday since she'd started working. As usual, she rolled her eyes back to the computer and assumed he was trying to flirt and failing.

"'Sup, Serket," he said as he set his light jacket on the hanger and shook out his hair.

"Just spending another night in this shithole with you, Gamzee. Y'know, the usual."

Gamzee nodded with the same old smirk on his face. He jumped over the front desk and sat on it with his knees facing her. The girl at the desk was sort of the grungy type. She had long unkempt and slightly teased hair. An acid-wash jean jacket was draped over her shoulders with tight dark blue jeans that hugged her legs in the most perfect of ways. The outfit was all topped off with a pair of army standard combat boots. Naturally, as one of the few tattoo artists in the parlor, she has a bit of ink. The only one is a sleeve that goes all the way from her shoulder to her hand that was made to look like a robotic arm on her left arm.

"So Gamzee, what's been with you? Getting high all day and giving two fucks about the world around you?" She stated with a slight grin. Gamzee only smirked and nodded. He'd gotten used to her rudeness a few days after she'd started working, so it's not like this was anything new to him. Vriska Serket is obviously one of those special people who can absolutely read people like a book. This was the only quality in her that made Gamzee nervous. He'd never told her or anyone else he worked with about what he does in his free time at home. The only one person that really knows is Karkat. Somewhat.

"Life's good, Serket. You've just got to look in the right places for the right things at the right time," he mused as he leaned back on the desk with a smile that was so slight it may not have even been there.

"Is life really that good, Mr. Makara?" Vriska stood and placed her hand over the elbow crease of his right arm, "I don't think you're telling me an entire truth, my dear. Take a look at what I found." She lifted her hand revealed several different needle wounds in his arm. The area was splotched with hues of blue, purple, and green around the little punctures. Some veins were visible through the translucent, damaged flesh and were a sickly purple color, indicated that they were no longer functioning. Gamzee looked at her and then back at his mutilated arm before pulling it away. He thought about her actions for a moment and then did what he does best. Hide the pain and fear. He simply smiled and chuckled; holding his arm with his dominant hand.

"How exactly did you find out, Vriska?" he asked. She scoffed at him and flipped her hair to the opposite shoulder. She cat walked into the small employee break room and came back out with a plastic baggy full of syringes and a small, half empty vile of the foul, yellow liquid. The look on Gamzee's face instantly changed. He became like an animal that was seeing food for the first time in months. He bit at his piercings once again and grabbed for the baggy. The amount of heroin in that vile might last him until he could get more.

"Oh no, no, no!" Vriska teased as she snatched the bag back, "You know the cabinet under the sink isn't exactly a good place for something like this."

Gamzee's hand ran itself down his face and stopped in front of his mouth, he looked as though he was going to vomit, "J-Just…give me the bag, ok?"

His voice was shaky and the hand he held out to her was trembling. The thought of the warm drug coursing through his body was enough to make him go insane. Vriska laughed at him and then did something so unpredictable that the world seemed to simply stop. She lifted the vile out of the bag with her index finger and thumb, showed it to Gamzee, clutched it in her palm, and then threw is against the wall with all her might. Gamzee's breath caught in his throat. His eyes were wide; mouth gaping open. He stumbled over to the shattered remains of the tiny, insignificant vile that his life was wrapped around. To his knees he dropped, feeling the pieces of tainted glass underneath his hands. The liquid was something he needed. It wasn't just because he could anymore. He needed it so badly it hurt not to have it running along side his blood. Small, salty tears began to run down cheeks as he looked down at his own hands.

Behind him, Vriska laughed, and laughed, and laughed. It wasn't even a dark chuckle at this point. Now it was hysteric, heart-less laughter.

"Oh wow that was fucking great!" she laughed, "The best part is considering you're getting paid minimum wages, you won't be able to get anymore until at least the end of next week!" She continued to laugh at him; at his pure misery. Gamzee stood back up, unable to form words. He just stood and ran his hands over his face, through his hair, all the while mumbling, "What am I going to do now?"

Finally, Vriska caught her breath and walked over to the shaking man formerly known as Gazmee Makara. Still grinning like she was mad, she took his face in between her hands, "You don't understand just how fucking excited I am to see you go through withdrawal," she growled excited. She pushed his head back and sent him flying into the wall behind him as through she was some middle school bully. Gamzee was mentall broken. He could do nothing. He was a flimsy ragdoll under the command of anyone who could give him what he wanted.

"Wow you're pathetic. Just kill yourself already," she said as she strutted out of the parlor, "Lock up when you're done, ok?" And then she was gone.

Gamzee was left alone. It felt like his entire world was crumbling down around him. The last bit of heroin he had until the end of next week was gone. He hadn't shot up in days. Nothing but the smooth feeling of the opiate racing through him could help and he didn't even have that luxury. Suddenly, he was over come with anger. Why didn't things ever go his way? Nothing goes his way ever. Why can't he just have one good thing in life god damned life? He was going to Hell anyway so why can't he fucking enjoy himself? And so he stood, leaving the broken bottle on the ground, he took the bag full of syringes and stormed out the parlor doors.


	3. Stolen Goods

The rain poured at a steady pace as Gamzee stomped his path down the cracked sidewalk. He wasn't sure where he was going or what he was going to do; all he knew was that he needed it. He wanted it. He'd never wanted something this much in his entire life and he would do anything to get it.  
The jewelry shop he stopped in front of was obviously closed for the night. Half-lidded indigo orbs watched as the rain water washed down the large storefront window. Gamzee lifted his hand and placed it flat over the store's fanciful logo. Keeping his eyes covered by his soaking hair, he raised his fist and hit it. A small grunt escaped him and his teeth bit down into his bottom lip. The glass didn't even crack, so he hit it again. And again, and again, and again. He punched at the window until blood gushed from his lip and knuckles, but it still stayed solid. Gamzee crashed down onto the cement. It was over. Everything was just over. He couldn't tell if he was angry or sad or if he was feeling anything at all.  
For a while, he stayed slouched down in the rain. He barely could gather enough emotion courage to simply breath. There was such a mix of emotion within him that all he wanted to do was stay there and pretend nothing existed. To pretend he didn't exist. Then an idea popped into his fluttering head. Tenth grade health class suddenly told him of other opiates. That was it. In that moment, something clicked and Gamzee's mood swung. Morphine, Oxycotton, Opium itself! Gamzee pushed himself off the cold ground. His balance was off therefore his steps were wobbly and uncoordinated. He smiled and lifted his head to the clouds, "Morphine..." he mumbled.  
If he could just get some Morphine or Oxycotton or Vicodin or something, he would be alright for a bit. There were hospitals all around this city; he just needed to go to the right one. A hazy memory popped into his mind of a hospital visit a few months back. The hospital nearest his house was the Seattle General on the south end of town. That had to be the one. He'd only been there once so it's not like they would remember him at all. So he began to take steps southbound. As he walked, all he could keep his mind on was the thought of the delicious drug inside of him. Soon, he broke into an uneven sprint.  
"Sir, are you ok?" the nurse at the desk of the ER asked. Gamzee looked at her from his place leaning against the counter. He was gasping for breath due to the run here. He patted his chest and let it fall back to his side, "My... My chest... Chest pain." As he explained his pseudo-ailment to the nurse, he could scarcely keep himself from smirking. He could tell by the look on her face she was buying into his lie. The nurse scurried out from her place behind the desk and helped him keep his balance. She yelled something Gamzee couldn't make out behind his roaring thoughts. Then, other hospital aids were buzzing around him, helping him onto a wheelchair and flooding him with questions he didn't try answering. Gamzee put up nothing of a fight. Quietly, he was set onto the cot in one of the many rooms.  
When he was finally left alone by the swarm of aids and nurses and only a few remained to set up the drips and what not, he glanced down at his left arm. His eyes went wide for a moment and then he shoved the bruised, punctured thing underneath the sheets. A sly smile stretched along his mouth; his head lulled around on the pillow in anticipation for that precious Morphine drip he knew he would be administered. Then there was a pinch in his free arm and with it came a warm, familiar rush.  
"Thanks," he mumbled as his body relaxed into the hospital mattress, "I feel _much _better." Unsuspecting, the nurse who had stuck him with the needle nodded at him with a smile and patted his hand. And with that, she was gone.  
Hours passed. Gamzee waited until most of the lights in the hallway had gone dark. Reluctantly, Gamzee pulled the Morphine drip and other various IV's out of his arm. He needs much more than that, so he would get more. With one hand placed on the room's doorknob, he carefully opened the door. The hallway was empty, quiet and dimmed. His every step echoed through the hospital; his feet made little sticking noises as he walked on the tiles. All he had to do was find the room where everything was stashed. It couldn't be far off. The worst he might have to do is go down a few floors. Even with his mind racing and eyes fluttering with Morphine in his brain, he still knew that the store room wouldn't be on any form of directory. Dragging his feet down the hall, Gamzee glanced into almost every room. Nothing was going to stop him. If he had to die to get what he craved so badly, then by God he would do just that. The pace of his breath became quicker the more frustrated he got and the more he thought about finding that wonderful store room.  
Time passed and Gamzee grew more and more anxious. It's right in front of him, he can feel it, he simply can't reach it. He stopped and leaned against the wall behind him for a short break in his search. It felt like he had been searching for hours and hours. Sweat dripped down his body, and his clothes stuck to him like glue. The clock plastered to the wall read 3:50 AM. He'd only been searching for upwards of an hour and a half. A long, drawn out sigh escaped him as he set his head against the wall. The looks of the hallway, the scant amount of doors and lack of any decor, indicated that this was no place for a patient to be. The eerie quality around him didn't scare him; but gave him a sense of hope and security. Maybe he still had a chance to find that sweet, honey-colored drug. Gamzee got back to his feet and rustled his own hair before continuing on.  
Instead of simply looking inside the doors, he actually tried to open them this time around. Of course, the majority of them were locked. Gamzee was just about ready to give u when he noticed a single door at the very end of the hallway. The walk over to the door seemed something like an eternity. Every part of him was telling him this was the right one. Everything would be ok when he opened it. His feet stopped only when the tips of his bare toes touched the bottom of the storage room entry way. A demented smile crept over Gamzee's teeth. His slim, unpainted face was twitching with all the excitement in his scrawny body. With trembling hands, he reached for the doorknob. He flicked his wrist and expected the doorknob to follow. It didn't. Gamzee furrowed his brows and twisted again. Every turn became more frustrated and frantic.  
"Sir?" The voice echoed all around him as though it was in a never ending tunnel. It was small and feminine and frankly quite cute. His teeth clenched together and ground in pure rage.  
"Yes, dear?" he mused as he turned on his heel to face her. The girl in front of him was obviously a nurse arriving for the first shift of the day. To him, she looked like a little girl. Her round, kitten-like face and short curly hair didn't help much either. She stepped closer to him with a smile on her face, "I'm sorry, but shouldn't you be in your room? It's rather early and you look like you need some sleep."  
Her smile was warm and welcoming as well as innocent as she took his hand and pulled him toward the patient's wing. A low growl escaped Gamzee's lungs and that's when he noticed the keys dangling from her belt loop. One of them had to open that door. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his weak body. He stopped in his tracks, stopping the nurse along with him. In a single swift movement he pulled her over to him

The kitten-like nurse gasped when her body collided with his, "Sir, let me go." Gamzee hummed and smiled down at her, "Why should I? I ain't got no reason to." With his words, their bodies swayed around the hallway in a drunken waltz.

"Let me go! I've got to take you back to your room!" She said as she began to struggle against his grasp. Struggling was probably the worst thing she could have done in this situation. When she started to squirm, Gamzee took her wrists and shoved her against the wall. He shook his head; his face only inches from hers. Indigo eyes impaled her as he examined her body from head to toe. Eventually, they stopped at her face. Olive colored orbs filled with salty tears as he spoke.

"Nepeta Leijon, huh?" he questioned as he ripped the nametag off her chest, "Cute little name for a cute little kitty." His voice was low and seemed to match the constant swiveling of his head and body. "How about you give me those keys? I'll promise not to hurt you too bad if you do."

"I'm not giving you anything, you freak!" she spat in his face. Silently, she watched as he wiped the drops of her salvia from his unpainted face. He growled loudly and shoved a hand over her neck. Baring his teeth, he dragged her up the wall; pushing her a few inches over the top of his head.

"Give me the motherfucking keys," he grumbled, "And maybe I won't f-fucking end your miserable life." Suddenly, he could feel himself loosing control; tripping over his words and what not. Nepeta was taking in ragged, short breaths and clawing at his single hand. Soon enough, the pressure on her airway became too much. Her battle became slow and unsteady and eventually she went limp. Gamzee smiled to himself and watched her body crumble to the floor. He knew even in his daze that she was only unconscious and wouldn't stay that way for long. He quickly crouched down snatched the keys from her belt.

All he wanted was to get that damn door open. He scrambled to find the right key. Turns out the seventh key on the ring was the one. The door swung open and smacked against the wall behind it. The first step into that room was as though Gamzee had died and gone to a junkie's heaven. His eyes were immediately drawn to the soft yellow glow in a cabinet on the far right. There. There is was. He shuffled over to the cabinet in a dizzy rush and began shoving vials into everywhere he could think of. Down his pants, in his pockets, he even put some down his shirt and held them against his skin. The happiness and adrenaline electrifying his brain cells was like nothing he'd ever felt before without the aid of some sort of drug. Shaking hands grabbed at vials until he could practically carry no more. As he walked hurriedly out of the room, a few of the glass containers dropped and shattered on the tile, but he paid no mind.

Sloppily, he shuffled throughout the hospital. Nurses and doctors alike tried to stop him, but he simply kept pushing them all away. His head was fuzzy and pounding lightly. But he knew he had to at least get home before he could black out. The sun was rising. Gamzee could see the sun coming through the front doors. He couldn't wait to feel the sense of freedom that those rays of light gave. Then, after what seemed like forever, Gamzee busted his way out the two glass doors. He'd done it. He'd gotten what he craved and it took almost no effort. Gamzee barreled down the sidewalk toward his apartment all the while smiling and chuckling at his success. That's when he ran right smack into Karkat.


	4. Is This Really The End?

The collision between the two bodies caused Gamzee to drop some of the vials that were loosely held in the bottom of his tattered, dirty shirt. The profanity they both shouted echoed through to dark alleyways of a waking city. Karkat turned swiftly to get a look at this person, "Hey, can't you watch where you're-!" When he cut off, his face softened and then contorted. The expression screamed all the questions Karkat couldn't ask. What is he doing out here? What is he carrying? Why does he look like he hasn't slept or eaten in days? Intense worry suddenly crashed over his mind.  
"Gamzee? Gamzee, what's wrong?" Karkat asked, his voice barely reached the man standing in front of him. Karkat hesitantly extended a hand toward Gamzee, "You've gotta answer me, man. What the _fuck _is going on?" Karkat's voice elevated the more frantic he became and Gamzee flinched back; his eyes wide.  
"Get the fuck away from me! Who the fuck do you think you are?" Looking like a deer in headlights, Gamzee took more steps away from his only salvation, "Don't mo-motherfuckin' touch me!" Gamzee's vision was a haze in front of him partnered with small stars dotting the world in front of him. Karkat blinked a few times, his breathing had quickened out of pure fear. He reached out to Gamzee once again. This time, Gamzee let his arm leave the bottom of his shirt and landed a blow to the side of Karkat's cheek. A few more glass containers holding the Morphine dropped. Some shattered, others stayed unharmed. The hit sent Karkat tumbling to the ground below him.  
"You stay the hell away from me, y'hear." Gamzee growled. Before Karkat could manage to haul himself off the cement, Gamzee had taken off.

Sitting on his haunches, Karkat wiped away the drool trailing out of his mouth and spat out a mixture of blood and saliva. He could already feel his cheek puffing up. He eyed one of the unbroken glass vials on the ground as he unsteadily got back to his feet. It rolled ever so slightly before coming to an abrupt stop in the crack between panels of sidewalk. Fearing the absolute worse, Karkat watched the yellow liquid slosh around for what felt like an eternity before crouching down and actually picking it up. He drew in a deep shaky breath and turned the container to read the label. Tear filled Karkat's eyes. With his sleeve, he wiped them away.  
"God fucking dammit!" he screamed as he threw the container back down. He turned on his heal and broke into a sprint along Gamzee's trail, "You're such a fucking asshole, Gamzee!" Karkat's heart was racing as was his mind. Why had he not noticed? Why couldn't Gamzee tell him anything? He could have helped! "Shit!" he cried. With every passing moment Gamzee got farther away. Karkat's lungs burned and cried out for him to stop, but he only sped up. There was no way in hell he was going to lose Gamzee to something like this.

Meanwhile, Gamzee had made it back to his apartment without dropping like a fly in route. Instead of taking the time to open the door, he simply kicked it in. The lock audibly broke and fell onto the cheaply carpeted floor. When Gamzee entered, he began to cough. His lungs were on fire from running. The vials were slowly emptied from their holding places and clinked onto the coffee table. The coughing persisted and took Gamzee to the floor. Sweat coated his face and body; his breathing became forced. He pulled his worn out shirt over his head and grabbed one of the vials off the table. A raspy, disturbed chuckled left Gamzee's lips. He looked around the room for that damned bag of needles by shuffling on his knees. They weren't there. He must have dropped them on the way to the hospital.

He stepped back onto his feet and almost fell over. The air was thick with tension. It was silent. The short, deep breaths he was taking in was the only thing that could be heard. Then something snapped. Gamzee turned to a small table covered in bongs and pies and threw it across the room.

"FUCK!" he yelled to the walls around him. He punched through the dry wall. His voice was constricted by anger; he could barely manage to scream out in pain as he rampaged through the apartment. Little did he know, there was a single syringe lying on the floor on the other side of the room the entire time. He finally stopped when his body could handle no more. Perspiration trickled down his bare chest and face; with every inhale of air he took in a little less oxygen. He dropped back down onto his hands and knees when the coughing and lightheadedness kicked back in. Gamzee blinked slowly and wiped the moisture from his forehead. Then he shut his eyes and took himself down to lie flat on his stomach. The sick feeling vertigo gave was becoming over whelming. His eyes flickered around the room. Light from the early morning sun poured through the window and over his body. That's when he finally noticed it. A single needle resting on the floor underneath the window.

"You stupid motherfucker…" Gamzee mumbled, "You were there the entire goddamn time, weren't you? S-So, how about we put you to some good use, huh?" Once again he lifted himself onto his hand and knees and crawled over, "You must be so fucking cold, brother. I can warm you up cause, y'know, skin is all hot and stuff. You'll like it, I promise." The morphine bottle was still clenched tightly in his palm as he smacked his free hand down onto the syringe. Shaking, Gamzee shove the needle into the top of the vial. He cheered the morphine on with agitated mumbles. He knew the feeling morphine gave would always be slightly different than his beloved heroin, but it would have to do for now.

"Heroin has more of the good stuff in it," Gamzee mumbled, "But I guess you're pretty chill too Ms. Morphine." Gamzee dropped the vial onto the ground when the syringe was full. 'Gamzee, stop. Gamzee it's too much.' The small voice in the back of his head was talking once again, but it was continually ignored. Gamzee searched hysterically for a vein in his arm. Nothing. None of them were capable of housing the drug. So, he took measures into his hand. Literally. He spread his fingers and shoved the end of the needle into the web between his middle and ring finger. A loud groan vibrated from scratched vocal cords. The syringe ran out of fluid eventually, as all good things must come to an end. Gamzee ripped it out of its place between his fingers and tossed it down onto the carpet. Vision further blurred and senses gone, Gamzee collapsed onto his side with a smile on his face. Euphoric visions of nothing slid across his mind. And so he laid there flat on his bony back and stared at the cream-colored ceiling. 'You over did it,' the voice in his head whispered.

"You over did it, Gamzee." Inbetween bouts of consciousness, Gamzee rolled his head to the side. And there knelt his best motherfucking friend, Karkat Vantas. Then the entire world shut off. Everything was just…gone.

Karkat's tears stared welling up again when Gamzee's eyes shut and his body went limp. He kneeled there and simply stared at the lifeless bag of bones in front of him. Karkat reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Tearful eyes stared down at a blank screen that wouldn't light. Dead. Of course.

"How ironic…" Karkat said. The phone dropped down onto the floor. Any and all other options were hiding away from Karkat. All his mind was set on was the fact that Gamzee is most likely dead. All he could do no was sit, wait and hope that he woke up. He certainly wasn't going to get up and leave him alone again. Everything around him was silent. There were no birds chirping or music playing. It was just quiet.

Karkat slung Gamzee's arm over his shoulder and lifted him. He grunted at the sudden weight. Gamzee even let out a few small, inaudible groans as his friend dragged him into the tiny bedroom down the hallway. Karkat was significantly shorter and smaller than Gamzee, so moving him was a bit of a huge process. He pushed Gamzee down onto the bed and proceeded to do the same with his legs. Like a mother to her ill child, Karkat made sure he was comfortable before collapsing cross-legged on the floor below him. All of the frustration and anger he felt toward himself, the drug, and Gamzee himself was beginning to boil over. His chest tightened and his stomach tied itself in tight, inescapable knots. Choked sobs rumbled from his lungs and he clawed at his hair. 'Why couldn't he have said something? I would have tired my best to help and he knows that.' his thoughts scolded him over and over. It was like a broken record that could never be taken off the needle.

All day long these thoughts plagued Karkat's shattered mind. Agonizing sobbing came in small intervals that lasted anywhere from 2 minutes to 2 hours. The entire day passed and Gamzee didn't make a single move. Karkat sat still; head down and completely run dry of tears. As time passed, Karkat began to lose hope quicker and quicker. He began to think about what he would say to explain everything. He couldn't just say something like, "Oh, I watched him overdose on morphine and than sat with his corpse all day." But then it caught up with him. His best friend could be dead. Karkat watched him die and did nothing. Even if he did wake up, there was no telling what he would do. Would he even remember Karkat? Or would it be like when he ran into him on the street hours before? There were so many unanswered questions that may never be answered at all.

In the jumble of all his thoughts, something twitching in his peripheral vision. Karkat looked over the edge of the bed and waiting. Maybe it has just been his imagination. He could have sworn Gamzee moved. Karkat got to his feet and sighed; running his hands over his face. Hope was beginning to flood over his chest and get the best of him. He kept looking down at the body waiting for another sign of life. If there had been one at all. It happened. Gamzee's wrist flicked ever so slightly again. Karkat's heart leapt in his chest. He leaned over Gamzee and slightly shook him.

"Gamzee," he whispered, "Gamzee, wake up. Please. Come on, I know you can do it." In response, all Karkat got was another flick of the wrist and some movement behind thin eyelids. Gradually, the amount of moving Gamzee was doing rose alongside Karkat's anxiety. Gamzee would flop his hand over his stomach or roll his head to the opposite side of the pillow. He even began to make small noises. Karkat couldn't stop smiling. He wasn't dead. Silent "thank you's" vibrated off the walls. Karkat didn't even really know who or what he was thanking, but he knew someone needed to be thanked. Gamzee was alive and that was a miracle.

Sunset began to paint the sky vibrant colors. Karkat watched the oranges and yellows bleed into the room. It had been a long day, but he knew there would be no sleep waiting for him. There would be no salvation from this hell tonight. Not that there had been lately anyway. In fact, the only reason he'd been walking in the middle of the city so early was because he needed something to keep him occupied. Karkat ran his fingers over the bags under his eyes. They seemed to get darker and puffier with each passing night. There was too much to think about to waste time sleeping, though. Karkat was a thinker and when he thought too much, he worried. If he didn't, who would? Everyone needed someone to worry for them, so Karkat did. Besides, he needed to study most nights if he was going to make it through school. Sleep was just something Karkat didn't really need. That was his reasoning anyway.

It wasn't until the sun was completely gone from the sky that Gamzee was awake and coherent enough to hold some form of conversation. Karkat had his head leaned against the wall when he finally sat up. His thin chest was coated in cold sweat and heaved as though he had just run a marathon. Even though his head was pounding, Gamzee could still feel the light happiness that the opiate gave. He sighed and looked over at Karkat, "Woah, bro. What're you doing here?" he asked with that familiar slur in his speech. Karkat looked up from his daze. The air fell still. The two stared at each other; not leaving the other's face for a moment.

Gamzee chuckled, "I didn't know we were having a staring contest." That look. He was giving that stupid, motherfucking, high-ass look. Karkat despised it. Did he really no know? Could he really not see just how upset Karkat was? Did he _honestly _think this was some sort of fucking joke? Gamzee continued to ramble on about something totally irrelevant. Something about having to clean his room. Karkat was beginning to lost control. And to top it all off, his cheek had swelled to a pretty good size throughout the day. His teeth ground together and fists clenched. He stood and dragged his feet to the edge of Gamzee's bed.

"Hey, Gamzee," he muttered. The juggalo glanced up and was met with a solid bash square in the center of his face.

"That's for being such a _fuck-up_, you piece of shit!" Karkat's voice rattled the walls around them, "Morphine? Are you kidding me, Gamzee? I have been sitting here all goddamn day waiting for your sorry ass to wake up!" Once again, tears began to fall from Karkat's odd crimson eyes. His voice softened to a low whimper, "I thought you were dead, Gamzee. I thought you'd fucking left me here alone." Gamzee watched on as Karkat stood in front of him and wiped his eyes in a feeble attempt to stay strong. Blood was gushing from Gamzee's nose; pouring onto his exposed exposed skin.

"Why couldn't you have just told me or at least have dropped a hint before letting it get this far?" Gamzee shook his head and tilted it back to stop all the bleeding. Also to hold back the moisture forming in his own eyes. His voice was soft and cracked ever so slightly when he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it anymore, man. You've been apologizing for shit like this for years now and I'm done. Don't fucking bother with me anymore. You know what, don't even bother coming to me when you want help. I'm done, Gamzee. I'm done…" Karkat shook his head at Gamzee and left that shitty apartment as though he was going to gone for good. That's what he planned on. That's what he wanted. Then, he began to realize just how wrong he was for walking away. Yet, he continued down the concrete walkway.


End file.
